


Diaries of Anarchy

by juiceboxxortiz



Series: Diaries of Anarchy [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M, diaries of anarchy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-05 01:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juiceboxxortiz/pseuds/juiceboxxortiz
Summary: This is where you'll find all the Diaries of Anarchy entries (including Juice Ortiz Journals, that started the whole idea!)Diary entries of club shenanigans written from the perspective of each character. Done in the style of the Georgia Nicolson books.





	1. Juice Ortiz Journals

**Monday, 12th February, 10:00am, convenience store parking lot**

Dear diary,

Just met my future wife. She is made of sunshine and I’m already in love with her.  
I got asked to take Abel to school this morning because everyone was busy. I thought I could just drop him off and head back to TM but I’m now lovesick, humiliated and eating a box of shame donuts in the carpark of the convenience store.  
Why did I think it was a good idea to tell his teacher, Miss Jones, that I was available? She only asked me where Jax and Tara were, and I told her they were busy with work this week and needed a hand getting Abel to school. That would have been enough, but then she asked me for my name. I said, and I quote, “Mr Single & Ready to Mingle”. I should have told her I was “Mr Idiot and Desperate.” That would have been more accurate.  
Thankfully she laughed and I had a moment to recover when she said I could call her Max. I told her she could call me Juice, and managed not to say she could “call me anytime”.  
Oh God, I’ve eaten five donuts and now I have “Me & Mrs Jones” stuck in my head. I’m going to have to move towns now. Excommunicate myself from SAMCRO. They’d never let me transfer as a Nomad once they hear about this, they’ll all be dead from laughter.

**Monday, 10:00pm, still thinking about my secret shame**

Maybe I can get Happy to mercy kill me, as a favour.

**Tuesday, 13th February, 1:00pm, TM Garage, hiding under a car pretending to work**

Dear diary,

Had to take Abel again today. Jax asked if it would be alright if I took Abel to school all week, and because I’m a glutton for punishment, I said yes. Max didn’t say anything about my misfortune of tongue yesterday, so I assumed she must be some sort of angel. She sure looks like one. Brown, wavy hair, pretty pale skin, and she smiles a lot.  
Not like, mentally deranged, unblinking smiling. Genuine smiling, blinking the right amount. It turns me in to an idiot.  
Not an idiot like that time I fed that dog meth and it bit Tig’s behind, just an idiot where my brain doesn’t brain anymore and my mouth doesn’t mouth anymore.  
I told her I would be dropping off Abel all week. As I was leaving she asked me to remind Jax and Tara to send a paint shirt in with Abel tomorrow as they were painting Valentine’s Day cards. I said I would let them know, and if they needed someone to come play Cupid, I looked great in a diaper. She laughed and I’m pretty sure it was because she thought it was funny, and not because she was scared of me and was trying to keep me pacified.  
I mean, I did look fetching in a diaper, but it’s not something you say to any sane person you were trying to impress. Then again, I’m not sane, but I only ate 3 shame donuts today, so that’s a win.

**Wednesday, 14th February, 11:15am, clubhouse**

Dear diary,

I’ve never felt more ashamed in my life. I felt like the universe was sending me a sign that since Max hadn’t called the authorities on me for my performance the last few days, it meant that she liked me. I figured that since it was Valentine’s Day, I would make a small, sweet gesture. If she liked it, then it would confirm my suspicions and I would ask her out the next morning.  
It pains me to recount this, diary, but you have to take the good with the bad. You don’t have triumphs without trials. When you go through hell, just keep going. If ‘plan A’ doesn’t work, there’s 25 other letters in the alphabet.  
_When did you become a writer for Hallmark, Juicy Boy? - Chibs_

**Still Wednesday, 11:35am, locked in the clubhouse bathroom, Chibs swearing at me through the door**

Just beat Chibs over the head with my journal and now I’m hiding out so I have some privacy to write about my pain without being killed.  
So I decided to compose a poem for Max to tell her how much I liked her without actually telling her to her face. Because if I’ve learnt anything, someone can’t reject you if you’re not there to hear it. You just avoid any area of town they happen to frequent and pretend like nothing happened.  
I taught the poem to Abel, rehearsing it in the car all evening while he was eating dinner and on the way to school in the car. Jax and Tara had invited me over to thank me for helping with Abel. Jax thought it was weird that I was getting his kid to be my wingman, but Tara thought it was cute, and we all know who the real genius in that relationship is. (Hint, it’s not that blond ferret.)  
It was game time, Abel had repeated the poem perfectly to me and I had given him a copy of it written down in case he got stage fright. I was just gonna get him to give her the note, but I thought it was more romantic coming from the kid. On the note I had put “Wanna get dinner this Friday night? Yes/No”. Abel just had to give it over to her and bring it back with her answer.  
Instead of walking him right up to the room, I hung back a little. I would go unnoticed, but I stood close enough to the door that I could hear.  
He must have gotten stage fright, because he just grabbed the note and gave it straight to her. I waited, watching as Max opened the note, ready to pat myself on the back. Instead, she scrunched up her face, signature smile completely gone.  
Max looked up, searching for me, and came over.  
“Juice, I’m sorry, but this is frankly immature. And having Abel deliver this for you is grossly inappropriate. If anything like this happens again, I’ll be reporting it.”  
Before I had the chance to say anything, she turned and walked in to the classroom.  
I walked out of the school and got in the car, so confused as to what went wrong. I hadn’t gone with the dirty limerick Chibs had taught me, so when I opened the note, I was shocked to see that it was something all together different than the one I had intended to pass on.  
It was a crude stick figure drawing, of both myself and Max in a very R-rated position. I had to congratulate the artist, for their accuracy of my mohawk and tattoos on a stick figure, but deduct points for the over-exaggeration of Miss Jones’ breasts.  
After my shock had worn off, I realised who had done it. Jax. He was the only Son who knew of my plan.  
The betrayal cut deep, and I sped away from the school to the store, buying a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, dipping my shame donuts in to my shame ice cream. If it wasn’t going to cause my untimely death, I would have gone to the clubhouse and murdered our vice-prez right then and there.  
Instead, I stuck his hand in a bowl of warm water while he napped on the couch in the clubhouse. Take that, Pisspants Teller.

**Wednesday, 11:42am, still locked in the clubhouse toilet, Chibs and now Jax swearing at me through the door.**

This is my home now. I’m never getting out of here alive. Worth it.

**Thursday, 15th February, 5:15pm, my room, clubhouse**

Dear diary,

There is literally no greater romantic genius than myself. I managed to get out of the bathroom, relatively unscathed. I’m on bathroom cleaning duties for a week, but I’ll get a prospect to do it.  
I went to the hospital to visit Tara to get some romantic advice. I told her about what happened, and after Tara called and scolded Jax for 15 minutes, she told me that she would be happy to call the school and speak to Max to explain.  
I told her how kind it was, but I wouldn’t want poor Abel to have to leave the school because his father is a sadist.  
Tara said that I could go tomorrow with Abel to explain myself, and she was certain that flowers and the temptation of a romantic, quiet dinner at a small restaurant was sure to work.  
Today, diary, I would make my final grand gesture before giving up on love. I woke up and drove over to Clay and Gemma’s house early in the morning to swipe a few bunches of flowers from Gemma’s garden. I wanted fresh flowers but the store didn’t open until 8:30. I went before the sun came up so I wouldn’t be busted. Gemma would have killed me, but that was a risk I was willing to take in the name of love.  
I picked up Abel and we drove to the school. I made sure to congratulate Abel on his successful mission yesterday, because even though his father is a treacherous, hot mess crapbag, the kid did good. I wasn’t going to be the one responsible for his potential future self esteem issues just because his dad is a-  
_Come on, Juice, the picture was hilarious. Also, don’t cuss me out in your little diary, I am your vice-prez and I can put you on bathroom duties for two weeks if I want. - Jax_  
As I was saying, I drove my hilarious, majestic, king-like friend’s heir to his place o’ learnin’. We got to the classroom, and Max’s face was one of slight disappointment, but she seemed to be a lot calmer than the previous morning.  
This is how it went down.  
Juice: Max, before you say anything, let me apologise for yesterday. I don’t want to name names, but the person behind the note you received thought that by giving you theirs instead of the one I had prepared, they would display wit and humour. Please forgive him, as I have. His mother didn’t hug him enough. If you w-  
_Ortiz, you’re full of shit. Abel told me you begged her to forgive you and you asked her out to McDonalds, you tight arse. You’ve been hanging out with Happy too often. Oh, and you’re on toilet duty for a month. I told the prospects to tell me if you try get them to do it. - Jax_  
Oh my God, Jax, get out of my room!! I didn’t ask her to McDonalds, you redneck! I asked her to the burger joint on Main Street. I wanted to keep it simple, so there was no pressure and we had a comfortable place to get to know each other.  
_But she already knows you’re a twat. What else could she possibly need to know? - Chibs_  
Well you can both go screw yourselves, she said yes, that I was sweet and we’re going out tomorrow night. Success!


	2. CHIBS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First entry of Chibs Telford to the Diaries of Anarchy

**Wednesday, 16th June, 7:16pm, dorm room, stressed**

Diary,

These boys will be the death o’ me. Day in, day out, I worry for them, and it’s like the don’ give a damn abou’ what it does to m’health.  
I just walked out to find the lads eatin’, an’ when I looked down at their plates, I see ketchup on their vegetables. KETCHUP, DIARY! I prep an’ I cook an’ this is the thanks I get! They’ll miss me when I’m gone.

**Still Wednesday, still my dorm room, still stressed**

A while ago, young Juice took me to Clear Passages, an’ I finally saw the light. I’d let m’self go.  
Diary, I said to myself, “how can I look after these boys if I’m not looking after m’self?”  
Not that they care, ruining the sanctity of food with ketchup on every bleedin’ thing.

Sipping on mah whiskey, trying to calm m’self down. Was going to make the boys mah ma’s pancakes in the morning, don’t think I’ll bother now.

**Still Wednesday, still my dorm room, still stressed but now also drunk**

I will make ‘em pancakes, but if any of those boys even looks at the ketchup bottle, I’ll run ‘em over with mah bike.

**Saturday, 19th June, clubhouse**

Both Opie and Jax sitting at the bar, cryin’. Migh’ as well be, considering what they’ve done.

Me: Lads, wha’s the matter?  
Opie: I tried to be romantic last night. Ma had the kids, so I thought I’d cook Lyla dinner. I made pasta, but-  
Me: What kind of pasta did you use?  
Opie: I dunno, Great Value?  
Me: Did you salt the water?  
Opie: No, I d-  
Me: YOU DIDN’T SALT THE WATER? ALWAYS SALT THE WATER BEFORE COOKING PASTA! You used Great Value pasta sauce too didn’t you, Christ. Jackson, what did you do?

Jax told me how he tried to make mah pancakes from scratch. He’d substituted baking powder with cream of tartar. When I calmly asked him why he thought he could just interchange white powders, he told me they were all the same. He got offended because I called him a daft prick and hit him over the head with my recipe book. It’s not my fault that he _is_ a daft prick.  
“I gave her the first pancake! I was showing Tara how unselfish I am!”  
I was about to go off on a rant abou’ how you never give anyone the first pancake, but I thought I may have offended our VP enough for the day.  
I told the boys to stay where they were an’ I left the clubhouse.

**Saturday, 19th June, 1:30pm, barbecue area**

Just back from the store with all the _right_ ingredients. Jax and Opie looking absolutely fetching in my spare aprons. I’ve got a pan heating for pancakes an’ a pot full of water to boil.  
The boys are ready to be enlightened. I’m going to calmly an’ slowly take them through my recipes and technique.

**Twenty minutes later**

“CHRIST ALMIGHTY, JACKIE BOY!! THE PAN IS TOO HOT AND NOW YOU’VE BURNT THE BLEEDIN’ BUTTER! Lucky for you it’s the damn first pancake and now you can turn down the heat like I told you!”  
I feel like Gordon bloody Ramsay, surrounded by a pair of idiot sandwiches.  
“OPIE! This is homemade pasta sauce. Yeh can’t just dump it in the pan and heat it in a minute! Yeh have ta slowly stir and add in the ingredients, this isn’t Olive Garden!”  
All I was tryin’ ta do was show these boys how ta do it righ’, and what do I get? Opie threatenin’ ta dump the pot o’ pasta over my head and beat it with a spatula.  
 _Chibs, you can’t just put on an apron and shout orders. We’re not shoe chefs. - Jax  
_ IT’S SOUS CHEF, YOU BLOND IDIOT!I can’t work under these conditions. I need a pizza. I wonder if Giuseppe’s is open this early. __  


**Sunday, 20th June, lunchtime, Clubhouse of the Ungrateful**

Everyone avoiding me and eating in their dorms or elsewhere. Just because I told Tig what was in a Big Mac and how bad it is for him to eat. I offered to show him how to make a good burger himself, but apparently the club has heard abou’ my cooking lesson with the idiot an’ the ape. Not my fault that people can’t handle constructive criticism.  
Diary, they jus’ don’ understand that I care an’ I want the best for ‘em. The only one who really appreciates my cooking is Juice, but even he strays to the dark side of Colonel Sanders.

**Wednesday, 23rd June, 8:10am, day the world was blessed with my presence**

Last night I asked the boys if they wanted to join me in the morning for breakfast to celebrate my birth. They all had excuses. They’ll miss me when I’m gone. I told them so. I yelled it to them as I slammed the door to my room. Only the prospect heard me an’ came running to see what was wrong. He thought I’d slipped an’ broken my hip. I told him they’d broken my heart.

**Wednesday, my birthday, 8:30am**

Diary! My boys do love me!!

When I pulled myself out of bed to cook myself a lonely breakfast, I was surprised to smell food and walk out to the lounge to find a banquet before me.  
Jax told me that they’d all felt bad about being so rude to me while I was being so caring-  
 _I said we felt bad because we didn’t listen to your advice, old man - Jax_  
Details are unimportant. Jax borrowed my book (after I’d thrown it at him in a fit of frustration in my lesson), an’ instead of burning it like he had first intended, he an’ the boys used it to cook a feast for me.  
Gemma had supervised an’ we all sat down to eat. As a gift to everyone (which is very generous of me, since it’s my birthday), I didn’t lecture Happy on the risks of eating six rashers of bacon, four eggs an’ washing it down with two litres of Pepsi.

All-in-all, diary, it was a wonderful day, an’ since the lads were so thoughtful to me, I will be giving them all free cooking classes for their birthdays.  
When I told them, they all collectively groaned, but I know that deep down, they’re excited.  
 _Excited to get my hands on that book and actually burn it this time - Jax_  
No one asked you, Teller.


	3. Happy

**Tuesday, 5th August, 7:00pm, dorm room shower  
**

Killed a man today. He had to die. Like, a lot. Looking forward to my new tattoo.

If I wasn’t covered in blood, definitely would have used my new bathbomb.

Tomorrow is a new day.

**Thursday, 7th August, 8:15pm, clubhouse bar**

Saw a dog today. That was pretty rad.

**Wednesday, 13th August, 1:30am, bed**

Long week with SAMCRO. Some negotiations with The Mayans a bit uncertain, but all sorted now. 

Mostly Chibs wouldn’t get off my ass about putting ketchup on everything. Just because he’s just turned 70, or whatever, doesn’t mean he can take my hotdog and smother it in relish or whatever. It’s a hotdog. It needs mustard and ketchup.

I’ve worked myself up now. Gunna get out the lavender candles. Need to get calm.

**Still Wednesday, surrounded by my candles, feeling zen**

That’s better. He’s lucky he’s a brother.

Got my window open so they can’t smell the scent. The things I do for peace.

**Thursday, 14th August, 6:18pm, bath**

Nothing like a vanilla bathbomb to get you ready for a party. Normally, I’d go with something tropical, like mango, but if the guys get a hint of that, they’re gonna start asking questions.

Also, vanilla works well with my aftershave.

The only person who knows about my candle and bath supplies collection is Kozik. Only because I roomed with him in Tacoma, and he understands the reality of what I can do to him if he rats. My room is strictly off limits, even for Gemma. The crows are allowed on official Happy business, but they’re usually too drunk to notice.

A couple of times I’ve heard a couple of the guys walk past my door and say “what’s that smell?”

Kozik’s always come through for me. As he should.

**Thursday, club party**

This party is going OFF, diary!

All the babin’ crows are hanging around, and the guys keep asking how I can pull without saying much. I’m not telling them the truth though. Chicks dig vanilla.

Plus, I’m ultra sexy.

One crow in particular is practically begging me to take her to my dorm. Not a complaint, just an observation.

**Midnight**

Close one.

Juice swears he could smell something on me that wasn’t quite right. I told the little punk to sit down and stop trying to sniff me, but that got the other boys questioning.

Jax reckons my skin has a glow and asked me if I was exfoliating. Well, yeah, of course I was, but I just told him it was my natural sex appeal and to go grab some tit. I didn’t want to have to kill him for coming on to me. I don’t blame him, but still.

Might call it a night and take the crow with me. This interrogation is making me want to pull out the lavender candles again, but that would cause more questioning.

**Friday, 15th August, 10:12am, bed**

The only woman a man can trust is his mother.

Ultimate betrayal. My “brothers” snuck into my dorm this morning after I went out to get breakfast. Apparently they spoke to my bed buddy this morning and asked her what was in my room. She must have told them my room smelt like tranquility, and when they busted into my inner sanctum, they discovered my cupboard of supplies.

_Hap, don’t be embarrassed, we just had suspicions. - Clay_

_Yeah, we assumed your cupboard was gonna be full of torture tools, not look like a masseuse’s parlour. - Tig_

First off, I ain’t embarrassed. Second, WHAT?! “Torture tools”?? NO??! I just shoot them!

_What about that time in Tacoma when you used the pliers and duct tape on that guy? - Kozik_

Brother. We were in a garage. I use whatever is around if a gun isn’t enough. What kind of psycho do you guys think I am?

Good answer, they’ve all left my room.

**Friday, 5:43pm, organising my cupboard**

Didn’t even bother to put everything back where they found it. Bubblegum bathbomb next to ocean spray bath salts. Don’t they know that the bubblegum smell needs to be away from the lighter scents?

**6:00pm**

Light knock at the door. Kozik and Juice standing there holding some candles for me. Might not kill them now.


	4. Jax

**Friday, 8th September, Indian Hills, Gross Headquarters AKA their clubhouse**

Diary, this is the worst thing. We’re on a run and we’ve gone into lockdown. It’s been like this for DAYS and I’ve run out of products. All this hiding out is reeking havoc with my hair and skin.  
Suggested doing makeovers with the boys, but everyone, with the exception of Juice, said “no”.  
Now I’m rummaging around in the pantry, trying to find something I can use to cleanse my T section. All I found were some stale crackers and off milk. I suppose if I plugged my nose, I could grind up the crackers and make a paste…

**Gross Sleeping Quarters AKA my room**

I CAN’T TAKE IT, DIARY! I opened up the milk and nearly started retching. How can I put something like that on THIS FACE?  
Went back into the bar room, everyone drinking.  
“Prospect, I need you to go to the local and pick me up some cucumbers, a fresh lemon, NOT lemon juice, and cling film.”  
“Dude, you know the clubhouse is being watched and we’re laying low until this crap with The Niners blows over, right?” Opie asked me, as though I’m an idiot.  
 _You are an idiot. - Opie_  
“Half-sack is small, he’ll sneak out and back in without anyone noticing. Plus, Clay isn’t here and I’m in charge, so you gotta do what I say.” I replied, which is true.  
I pulled Half-sack aside and tried to convince him to go, but he wouldn’t do it.  
“How do you all expect me to charm these guys when I DON’T LOOK CHARMING?!” I asked them, as I stormed off to my room.  
And so here I am, lying in my bed of rapidly decreasing youthful looks. I managed to find some anti-aging cream that I think one of the sweetbutts had around. It’s expired, but at least it’s something.

**My room, feeling my pores tightening**

I’d smeared the cream all over my face, even around my eyelids. Can’t take any chances. But then my door opened and Juice walked in.  
“DON’T LOOK AT ME, ORTIZ, I’M HIDEOUS!” I said, trying to cover my face.  
Juice walked in anyway, sitting down on the edge of my bed. He pulled a bag up onto his lap and opened it, and my eyes grew so wide, I didn’t care how many wrinkles I got.  
There were creams and grooming equipment laid out in perfect arrangement.  
I quickly got up, wiping my face on one of Opie’s shirts, and dumped his stuff off his bed and into the hallway.

**10:15pm, My room, with my new bestie**

Juice and I sitting on our beds, face masks on.  
Opie is hella pissed that I kicked him out, but it’s his own fault. He doesn’t appreciate me or the things I do. I bought him all these beard oils for Christmas last year, and he told me he wouldn’t be “putting that shit in his beard”. Ungrateful.  
“It’s pine-scented, like your people!”  
“‘My people’?”  
“The mountain men.”  
“You know mountain men are crazy and can kill you, right?”  
“I just want your beard to be lush, sue me.”  
I’ve told him countless times that if he insists on impersonating a yeti, then he needs to braid his beard and hair so he doesn’t get all the knots. I even sent him tutorials on different braids, but you can’t tell people.  
Juice understands me, though. He’s rubbing cream into my dry, cracked hands.  
 _Jax, your cuticles! - Juice  
_ I know, Juan, I know! I didn’t bring my softening cream and there is ABSOLUTELY NO pharmacist in Indian Hills.  
 _How do these guys live?_  
Cavemen, Juice. Cavemen.

**Wednesday, 13th September, gas stop on the way back to Charming**

Finally going home! I can’t wait to get back to my precious bathroom. Oh, and Tara.  
Had fun with Juice on this run, we’ve been trading tips and doing our best to stay fresh with our limited resources. Sat up talking one night about our favourite products. Who knew Juice was so knowledgeable? He’s going to take me to his favourite stores next time he goes and hook me up.  
  
I have a giant headache. All morning we had Chibs screeching like a banshee, looking for his honey.  
“JACKIE BOY, JUICE, YEH BETTER NOT HAVE TAKEN MY ORGANIC FREE RANGE GLUTEN FREE LOCALLY SOURCED HONEY FROM M’BAG!! IT’S TWELVE DOLLARS A JAR!”  
Who gets that worked up about honey? And why yell at us? I mean, we took it and used it all on our treatments, but there’s no need to bellow about it.

Juice has brought me a sandwich from the gas station. My stomach has been feeling queasy the last few days, but this is better than what we were eating on lockdown.  
 _It was hard getting a decent meal while we were there. I’ll make you a smoothie when we’re home, and then I’m booking you into Clear Passages for a cleanse. - Juice_  
See, diary? This is what real friends do.  
I said to Juice, “you know what I could really go for?”  
“Ugh, don’t tell me, KFC? I’ve been craving it for days. Don’t tell Chibs.” He said.  
What? Boys just wanna have fun, too.

**2:00pm, Charming**

Back home. Can’t wait for tomorrow, Juice is coming over and we’re going to have a boys night in, really treat ourselves.  
Tara seems so glad to not have to go through my skin care routine with me. She’ll be sorry when she’s forty and looks it.  
I was so happy when I walked in the house, I might have bypassed her in the doorway and went straight to the bathroom. Kissed everyone of my products and promised I’d never leave them again.  
Tara’s pissed, but she’ll get over it when she sees my glowing skin after I’ve used my pore strips.


End file.
